My child looks like my wife’s lover

DEAR BEL

THE more I look at one of our children, I see the face of a man my wife had a long-running affair with quite a few years ago. This was one of several affairs that she had, all with men who were supposed to be friends of mine.

I presume once word got out she was up for it, they were forming a queue; plus she was very gullible (she thought they all loved her).

I don’t think any less of this child, who is now an adult. I love them (naturally I’m not disclosing their gender) just as much as the others, and I will continue to love them as mine.

As well as that, I do still love my wife, so I have kept my mouth shut, but for some reason it seems to be bothering me more lately.

If I bring the subject up with my wife and confide my worry, she will deny it all, and we could risk losing the happiness we now enjoy.

Plus, I do not want the child to know, as I think they would be very upset. What shall I do?

PETER

FOR Fathers’ Day two years ago, my daughter sent my husband ( her stepfather/friend/tireless helper) a card which said simply: ‘It’s in the Love, not in the Blood.’ We appreciated it so much that it’s still sitting on the dresser, making a powerful statement about real love, which has nothing to do with genes. I say this because your statement that you love this adult child in spite of these tormenting doubts feels admirable.

But your email to me isn’t about that relationship. It reveals a terrible bitterness about the way your wife behaved at a particular time in your marriage.

Your understandable anger finds expression in contempt (‘they were forming a queue’) and must be made worse by your assertion that the men with whom she is alleged to have had affairs were ‘supposed to be friends of mine’.

In those two throwaway remarks, there is a depth of pain and unresolved trauma that is the stuff of drama, such as Harold Pinter’s Betrayal, a powerful play about infidelity.

You say you love your wife. That being so, how can you continue clutching this miserable suspicion to your chest in silence?

Surely you’re looking ahead to later middleage, and the gradual decline to which we’re all subject. At that time, you need companionship, friendship, mutual tolerance, quiet support. To share the umbrella, knowing you want no one else beside you when the rain is heavy. Such aspects of mature marriage matter far more than any youthful passion, but that peaceful plateau is unachievable without trust, understanding and forgiveness.

I see two ways ahead. The first is to convince yourself that this person bears no resemblance to that long-ago lover. That sounds mad, I know — but I firmly believe that we are in control of our thoughts and can change them.

And here’s a trick that will help — one I successfully tried with a young man I know who was tormented by jealousy.

Every single time the negative thought comes into your head, you dig the nails of your right hand into the back of your left hand, very hard indeed, to the point of pain — telling yourself that the negative thought is not true. Then immediately you substitute its opposite. Do this every time. You will be surprised.

Second, naturally I believe you need to have a conversation with your wife. Not necessarily raising this particular issue (because you are going to control it), but about your memories of that time in your married life.

You could tell her how glad you are that you both came through it, and gently ask how she feels, too. After all, you were both hurt at the time, in different ways.

You need to explore — and be kind to each other. My hope is that the deepest cuts can still be healed.